Highs and Lows
by Jelp
Summary: Two different guys. Two different lifestyles. Two different philosophies on life. But not too different from each other to understand each other’s highs and lows. SasuNaru
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

I don't own Naruto, and I sure as heck don't make money writing fan-fiction.

**WARNINGS**: Yaoi. Mixing of present and past tense. Usage of second person. Lots of technical terms. Mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Genres: Romance/Angst/Humor

Just FYI, for those who didn't see it, Identity Crisis Chapter 7 was added on Sept. 7

This is a very different type of story for me. First of all, it's not in the ninja universe. Second of all, I'm writing this in first person for both Naruto and Sasuke, with second person mixed in. Naruto and Sasuke will use both present and past tense when they speak. Their past will probably be in present tense. Why? I dunno. That's how the mood struck me to write it. It might sound odd, but it flowed for me. Even so, you have been warned.

Enjoy!

**Highs and Lows**

**Chapter 1: Introduction**

_(Uzumaki Naruto's point of view.)_

There was silence in the car as my Mom drove. I dictated this silence because I was annoyed, and angry, and my Mom was being way over protective and Mom-ish.

"It'll be good for you. You could always use extra support. I've heard these support groups can really help people, especially someone your age," my mother said, her voice kind, though there was that hint of "I'm your mother and I know what's best for you even if you don't think I do" tone underneath the kindness. Yeah, I heard it. She wasn't fooling me.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, but even as I said it, I felt just a little bit guilty. I hadn't told my Mom how high I'd been last night, though I was sure she knew because I know I had left the syringe in the bathroom, and in the morning it had been in the sharps container.

Yes I get high, yes I use syringes, yes I'm going to a support group (not by choice mind you), but no, I don't do drugs.

Confused? Well tough because I don't want to explain it right now. Though not wanting to explain it makes me wonder if my blood sugar is low. I tend to get very defiant when my blood sugar's low. Usually I'm a very energetic, easy to get along with person, but when my blood sugars get too low or high...well, then not so much.

Yeah, some of you might have guessed it already, so I'll just say it. I'm diabetic.

I sigh to myself as I think about being diabetic, which makes me remember that my defiance possibly means I'm having a low. Now that I am thinking about it, I can feel my hands trembling slightly. I lift both of my hands up to eye level, watching as both my right and my left hands shake. My left hand has a tendency not to shake as much as my right (don't ask me why; I don't know, and my blood sugar is low which means I get on edge which means I'm likely to snap at you if you ask because I just _don't know_) and if my left hand is shaking it usually means I ought to test my blood sugar.

So I decide I will. And I guess I'll tell you a little about myself while I do it, kinda like a story. Here goes.

Even though my Mom probably knows what's going on (aka my low blood sugar), I still try to be quiet as I lift the flap to the pocket on my cargo pants, the velcro making its usual ripping noise as I pull out my tester.

So, okay, I don't know many other people who call it a "tester," but I do. Calling it a Glucose Meter or a glucoumeter just sounds weird (and glucometer doesn't show up on spell check anyway). Tester just roles off the tongue so much easier, and that's what I do with it. I test my blood sugar with it. Tester. Makes sense to me.

Okay, since you're probably new with some of this terminology and stuff, I'll take it slow for you. You're lucky I'm being so nice right now. I don't explain this to many people when I'm having a low.

You may have seen some testers…er…glucometers on the TV, you know, the ones that say you can test on your hand or your arm or whatever? I don't waste my time with them because even if your blood sugar is low or high, they tell you that you ought to test on your finger anyway, and I find that the kind that you can use elsewhere hurts your fingers more. That's my preference anyway.

I have a Precision Xtra meter. I like it. It has a cool little light thingy on the top so I can test my blood sugar in the dark, plus the body of the tester glows in the dark. Yeah, okay, I'm getting sidetracked. Where was I? Yes, right, test strips next.

The test strips are straightforward. Test strips are where the blood goes to test to see if you've got a good blood sugar reading or not. It should be 80-110 for me when fasting. For most people, you should be 111-140 two hours after eating. For me, I tend to spike, and I usually am between 150-170. Some people spike two hours after eating. I'm one of them. If my blood sugar were only, say, 115 after eating, I would have a low blood sugar in an hour's time. But that's just me. Each diabetic is different. Oh, and I'm a type one diabetic versus a type two diabetic. There's a big difference. Type one is more severe than type two, though type two is more common.

Umm, I'm sidetracked again, aren't I? Yeah, so the things I use to prick my finger with are called lancets. They're pointy. That's about all I can think to describe them.

Yes, so, lemme tell you the best piece of advice I ever got about lancets when pricking your finger to draw blood. When you test your blood sugar, prick the side of your finger. Hurts a lot less when you put the lancet in the little clicker thingy (I don't remember what it's called, but you put the lancet in, put the cap on, press a button, and it pricks your finger) and then test on the side. In the middle there's lots of nerves and that hurts more. Anyway, after I get blood from my finger I put the blood on the test strip that's in the machine and the tester reads my blood sugar.

Okay, so, that's the basic run down. (I've been doing all that as I explain it to you guys.) Now, I watch as my meter screen counts down from 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 ... 54. (It's mg/dL is the unit measurement if you want to get technical, but I rarely do and I forget what the hell the mg/dL stands for anyway.)

54 means my blood sugar is low. Not cool. That means I need sugar. When you're low, you need sugar to pick you back up. When you're high, it means you need to have insulin. I use an insulin pump to get my insulin. (I'll talk more about that later; I don't want to overwhelm you with too much information right now.) If my blood sugar is higher than 200, then I use a syringe to give myself extra insulin because it brings my sugars down faster by injecting it in at a different locale. Lots to remember, right?

And people say I'm dumb.

Right, low blood sugar. Back to that. To get myself back to normal I always carry little juicy juices with me. They're fifteen carbs (aka carbohydrates) each.

I reach into my other cargo pant pocket and pull out a juicy juice, stuffing the straw all the way in past the little ridges so I can sip up all the juice. They have glucose tablets that also help bring blood sugar levels back up, but those things make me gag. All chalky and funky. No. I'll stick to my juicy juices thank you.

"And that's how I bring my blood sugar back up."

"Are you talking to yourself again dear?" my mother asks.

"No," I snorted. I'm talking to you guys (and gals), but, ah well. She doesn't need to know that.

Right, so, I'm a bit more bouncy from subject to subject at the moment. Low blood sugars do that to me. Why had I started talking about this again? Right. The support group my mother's driving me to.

I'm eighteen (no I don't drive yet – another story for later – which is why she's driving me – though I might not go on my own if I was in charge of my transportation). The reason I'm going to this support group is because my Mom thinks that since I've started college and all that stuff that I need to go talk to people "my own age" about the similar problems that we have.

Why is she making me go? I don't know. For the most part, my family is pretty supportive. I have my Mom and my Dad, and that's all I need. While I don't mind talking to other people about being diabetic, sometimes I wonder if people don't look at me and feel bad for me for some reason. I don't want people to think of me as different. I want people to see me as me, Naruto. That's why I don't hesitate to tell people I'm diabetic. If I hide it, people look at me like I'm different. I make them forget I'm diabetic, that I'm no different otherwise.

That's why I don't like the idea of being in a "support group" for people "like me." It makes me feel like I've done something wrong and need help. I don't like being labeled as abnormal. Being as normal as possible is what I try and do. My friends totally freaked out on me when I got landed in the hospital and diagnosed with diabetes. A couple people thought I was going to die young (which, yeah, is possible, but not as likely today as it was fifty years ago). I love taking to other diabetics, don't get me wrong, but it just feels a bit cornered when you put me in a room with tons of them. There are certain things that I can't do and being reminded of it by talking to lots of other people with the same issues isn't really all that comforting. Perhaps the idea behind a support group with other diabetics is to imply that "you're not alone" or "there are others who you can talk to who understand you" or whatever bull shit that is.

Sorry. I'm not usually this bitter. Like I said, it's the low blood sugar. And no, it's not an excuse. It's really being low. Trust me on it – every other diabetic that I know (plus there's research on it) knows that when the blood sugars are too high or too low it affects personality. If you know any diabetics that don't have a slightly different personality when their blood sugars are too high or too low means a) they're hiding it or b) give them kudos from me to them since I wish that were the case with me.

"We're here," my Mom says quietly. Oh wow, we really are. I was zoned. If you know any diabetics who have their driver's license, never drive with them when their sugars are off – especially when low. Things can get fuzzy. If the sugars are too low there can be "black out" periods. If you take care of yourself, that doesn't happen, but even the people who do what they can to take care of themselves still have issues. I've known people who have had issues with low blood sugars while driving. For instance I know someone who ran through six red lights, side-swiped another car, the police had to chase him down, cuff him, and the diabetic didn't remember hardly any of the incident except for the police officer finally finding the insulin bottle and realizing the guy was diabetic.

Even after the cops gave the guy several of those nasty glucose tabs to get his blood sugar back up, the blood sugar upon testing was 26. That's AFTER the glucose tablets had been in his system for twenty minutes. That's just scary.

Hey, why are you looking at me like that? I never said it was me...I never said it wasn't, but hey...and no – it wasn't me! Just someone I know. Why are you looking at me like you don't believe me?

"Naruto!"

"Sorry Mom. Got lost in thought. What did you say?"

"I'm not gonna let you sit here sulking in the car. You'll enjoy it once your blood sugar comes back up," she said. I grumbled at her but unhooked the seatbelt and got out of the car. I scratched the back of my head as I looked around at the front of the hospital. It was eight in the evening, and it was different to come to the hospital in the evening than in the day. Usually I went to this hospital during the mornings or late afternoons to get blood work done (normal check up every three months). The support group meeting was being held in a smaller building behind the hospital that catered to out-reach patient services. I got out of the car and followed my Mom to the smaller building, trying not to drag my feet in the process.

We weren't the first one's to show up, but we weren't the last ones either. I could feel my body going back to normal as my blood sugar stabilized, and with it, I was sorting getting excited about the whole thing. While I usually hate to talk about my diabetes with others when my blood sugar is low or high, I love talking about it other times. If I don't want to talk to someone about something it means my sugars are low (or high, though my sugars go low more often than they go high).

I especially love talking to other diabetics about their experiences. I know there are some diabetics who do not talk to others about their diabetes unless to other diabetics. That was the point of this support group: talk to other diabetics. The point of this little conference was to meet kids my own age and share our mutual experiences through mingling. First there was a short little speech by someone or other from the hospital about how it's important to talk to others for moral support and to strengthen our emotional support groups, and _yadda yadda yadda_. After that there was time for all of us diabetics to get together and talk to each other. The parents could talk to other parents, and the diabetics could chat with other diabetics. My Mom headed right over to talk to another parent, and I started talking to another diabetic who seemed strangely reluctant to share about his "diabetic experiences" but still seemed willing to talk about it. Most diabetics I know are like that. They may not like talking about being diabetic except to other diabetics. Er, did I mention that already?

Anyway, as you may have guessed, I don't mind telling anyone, but I'm serious when I say there are people who really hate to share it. I've met a bunch of people who don't tell others.

Well, I mean, there are the people who think you're on your deathbed when they find out. (I had a friend who got so freaked out after I became diabetic that I got watched like a hawk at lunch to make sure I ate…stupid, over-protective Lee.) But total strangers will freak out. Like this one time my Mom and I broke down and had to call a tow truck for help. After getting back to the shop, I realized my blood sugar felt low (yeah, I can feel it – remember I shake? Though not all diabetics can feel it or even feel it in the same way I do). So I tested, and my blood sugar was 71. Borderline low. I wanted to eat food instead of "treating" (I was hungry!) and so I went out to find my Mom who was talking with the tow truck/mechanic guy. I told her I was 71 and asked if she knew when we'd be able to go and get something to eat.

The mechanic/tow truck guy looked at me funny. I mean, if a seventeen year old (I was seventeen at the time) says that they're 71, it must seem odd and out of context to people. My Mom told the guy I was diabetic and needed food and the guy _freaked._ I still remember his expression and the first words outta his mouth, "_Oh God_!" He started rattling off food that they had at the tow truck place – candy bars were the first thing he listed – and then said they had donuts in the back if I wanted one or there were crackers in the vending machine.

I opted for the crackers. You may ask why not the donuts or the candy bar?

Let's get one thing straight about candy bars, or more specifically, chocolate bars. Why is it that people think diabetics can't have chocolate or candy? Okay, I have a good idea why, but it's not that bad. First of all, a regular sized chocolate bar has LESS carbohydrates than a nutri-grain bar (for the most part anyway, depends on the brand and all that). The problem is, is that it has FAT. And if you have too much fat and don't know how to account for it then you're screwed. (There are lots of things that affect blood sugar. Carbohydrates are just one of them.) So, the point of that is I can eat pretty much what I want – in moderation. I mean, I can't go all out and scarf everything down that I want, but I can do small doses.

What was the other thing? Oh, right, donuts. Donuts don't always have as many carbs as people think – again, lots of fat though maybe not as much as you'd think. In the morning if you gave me a choice between a bagel and a donut, I'd choose a donut because the donut's less carbs, and usually less fat. Usually. Again, moderation. I eat one donut, not three.

Back to the story. The crackers did the trick. Best bet is to go for crackers or for pretzels when there's no immediate sugar to be found. I usually have juicy juices with me, but sometimes I forget to put one in my pocket. I also use airheads but it takes longer to chew. Juices and sodas are good for quick fixes as well. I drink diet soda most of the rest of the time. (If you're not diabetic I strongly recommend not drinking diet soda. It has artificial sweeteners in it that makes your body produce insulin and that makes you hungry. Being type one diabetic means my body doesn't produce any insulin, so it's not bad for me.)

Umm...why did I start on this story again? Oh – yeah – that's right! Because of why some diabetics don't like to talk to non-diabetics about being diabetic because of weird reactions. Yeah, some diabetics also don't like to talk about it just because other people don't know the lingo. (You gotta admit, there's a lot to know.) In other words, some people don't like to talk about being diabetic because others just don't know all the lingo. Even more on that, some people just don't _understand_ because plain and simple, they've never been through the issues of being diabetic.

Take my buddy Gaara for example. He was known for fighting and getting into trouble at school, even in elementary school. (Actually, he's still known for getting into fights, but that's besides the point.) It wasn't until I was diagnosed with diabetes and ended up meeting him in the nurse's office at school that he ever talked to me. (In school I had to go to the nurse's office before lunch every day to test my blood sugar there, and he and I would see each other testing. I was diagnosed during the summer, so the next year he seemed surprised to see another diabetic testing in the nurse's office.) I think he knew me by sight (I know I knew him by sight) but we hadn't ever talked before. To be honest, he sorta scared me. But once he saw me testing my blood sugar, he introduced himself (like I didn't know who he was – everyone knew him). I was surprised that he was diabetic. I'd never known that before. He explained he'd been diagnosed at a very young age, around two or three.

I told him I had had no idea he was diabetic. He shrugged and said he didn't like telling people who weren't diabetic. He went on to explain how he'd gotten into a fight with an administrator one time outside of school because he was testing his blood sugar and had kept looking around to see if anyone was watching him. The admin thought he was doing something dodgy, and Gaara got into a fight with the guy because he wouldn't tell him that he had only been testing his blood sugar. Gaara just didn't like telling people. But, he didn't mind sharing with me because (as he put it) I _understood_ him.

We've been friends ever since. Now, I don't hang out with the guy on a regular basis or anything, but we talk whenever we see each other (mostly when we had seen each other in the nurses' office which was every day before lunch).

I later found out that part of the reason he fought so much was because his blood sugar would get high and he would get the urge to punch something. (To be quite honest, I sorta knew where he was coming from on that one. When my blood sugar gets high I get confrontational too.)

That reminds me of this one time when he and I were in the nurse's office together. His blood sugar was high (his goes higher more often than mine) and mine was low. So he and I were in there chatting away while we're waiting for our sugars to normalize before going back to class. One of Gaara's friends (or if you ask me, the guy was more like a flunky) came in and saw us talking. He looked flabbergasted. The look on his face was pure: Gaara's talking to this guy? (This guy being me.) Gaara didn't seemed at all fazed by it, and he and I were sitting there talking technical stuff about our insulin pumps and what not. He always has the latest information. (His sister, Temari, works for the insurance company that handles my insulin pump insurance information. When she called and talked to me the first time about insurance info, she said she had heard about me from Gaara and confirmed that her brother was the "little terror" that I probably knew. She gets him to do trials of cool test stuff before it comes out.)

Right...okay, so my blood sugars are still low since I'm still rambling. What was the point of that story again? Oh, right, yeah, so Gaara's friend/lacky was absolutely miffed at the fact that Gaara and I were friends, but we're friends 'cuz we're both diabetic.

Gaara also listens to me about "diabetic stuff." This one time he had some random kid pinned up against a locker in the hallway, and I gently touched Gaara's shoulder and told him he ought to go to the nurse's office since his blood sugar was probably out of whack. The kid looked shocked that I would even go near Gaara, let alone touch him at that point, but Gaara just looked at me, nodded, and headed to the nurse's office.

It's different when other diabetics talk to diabetics, at least in my experience. We can say stuff to each other when our numbers (blood sugars) are off, and it's not as offensive as "an outsider." It's not like we want to be the way we are, but it does make a big difference talking to someone who knows what we've been through. I mean, for the most part. There're always exceptions. Remember, this is just my experience here. I haven't met every diabetic so I don't know for sure, but you get my point.

And while that story may seem random to you, it brings me back to my current place. Me, sitting here, at a meeting for others who can "understand" me. Part of my excitement is that it's true. They get me. I get them, well for the most part.

Which is why when I saw this guy sitting over in the corner looking as broody as hell, I wondered, is he a new diabetic, or are his blood sugars just outta whack? The dude looks like he wants to kill something.

Me being me and unable to leave people to be quiet to themselves, especially now that I'm pretty sure that my blood sugar is back to normal, (and the fact that the first guy I had talked to wanted to go and check out this cute diabetic girl on the other side of the room) I went over to the loner.

"Yo. My name's Uzumaki Naruto. Yours?" The guy was silent for a moment, and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Even so, he didn't seem mad at me per se, and finally obliged me with a response.

"Uchiha Sasuke."

"Hi Sasuke, nice to meet you." His black eyes (yeah, totally black, cool and creepy at the same time) gazed at me. I noticed his eyes matched his black hair and he stared at me for a while before blinking once and sighing. I got the feeling his Mom or Dad had probably dragged him along and he didn't want to be here. I asked him as much. He shook his head.

"My parents don't even know I'm here. I am trying to find a place to belong," Sasuke finally said quietly, "but I don't know if I fit in, even at a place like this."

His words chilled me. He didn't sound bitter or angry, just...lonely and exhausted. Like he was tired of everything but didn't know where to turn. Okay, so maybe that wasn't the case, but that's what it felt like. He excused himself right after saying that and got up and left.

I watched him go by me, and I felt dazed. Something about the guy just felt...wrong. Maybe it was just because he sounded like he needed help working out his problems. Maybe it was because I'm me and I have issues leaving lonely people alone. Maybe I'm just so used to talking to other people about being diabetic I like when other diabetics share with me. Either way, I ran after him, hoping to find out what the hell the guy's problem was.

**Chapter 2: Just What the Doctor Ordered**

* * *

_General information about diabetes:_

Type I is more severe than Type II, though many think that Type II is the more severe form for some reason. (I actually thought that when I was diagnosed. I've since been heavily educated.) Type I means a person produces no insulin and is insulin dependant. Type I diabetics must use insulin shots, pens, or pumps. Type II diabetics vary in their severity. Some can control their diabetes by diet and exercise alone. Some need pills. Some also use insulin if it has gotten too bad.

Diabetes causes death through high and low blood sugars as well as other health complications. Both of my great aunts died of it in their early thirties around forty years ago. Technology has come a long way since then.

An insulin pump is a small machine attached via a needle and tube. (The needle is generally pulled out while the tube remains.) Go to Google Images and type in "Paradigm 522" to see the type of insulin pump model I use. (I have the purple one.)

Blood sugars, fasting (before food) should be between 80-110. Two hours after eating, blood sugars should be around 111-140. Each diabetic is different.

_Notes about my life:_

So, I am diabetic and therefore this story will be loosely based off of actual events in my life. For instance, my friend, who I will not name, really is/was like how I describe Gaara, and his Mom, not his sister, has helped me get good insurance deals with my insulin pump. I use juicy juices for quick carbs. A tow truck driver really did go "Oh God!" when I told him I was diabetic.

If anything is confusing (as there's a lot of information here) I'll do my best to clear it up. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! - Jelp


	2. Chapter 2: Just What the Doctor Ordered

**WARNINGS**: Yaoi. Mixing of present and past tense. Usage of second person. Lots of technical terms. Mentions of suicidal thoughts.

**Highs and Lows**

**Chapter 2: Just What the Doctor Ordered**

_(Uchiha Sasuke's point of view)_

I was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes on August 5, thirteen days after my fourteenth birthday. My blood sugar had gone so high that I passed out and had to be rushed to the hospital.

I stayed there for a few days until my sugars were normalized and was released August 7th. Neither my father nor brother found out about it until later. My brother had recently moved out, and since my father was away on a business trip, he didn't hear about it until after he returned.

Three days since returning from the hospital my brother came over for dinner with the family. Before I was put on an insulin pump, I used syringes in order to inject insulin into my body before meals. When he came to talk to me before dinner, he saw me giving myself an injection in my bedroom. Bastard never did know how to knock. Anyway…

He demanded to know what the hell I was doing with a needle in the house. I calmly told him I was diabetic. He didn't believe me at first, but when he did, he went to my father demanding to know why no one had told him I had been in the hospital. That was how my father also found out.

Apparently no one had thought to tell my father before that either. I thought my mother had. Obviously he was mad and took it as a personal insult that she hadn't thought he should be told that his youngest son had been in the hospital. My mother had said that I would be able to handle it, so what why worry him? It still annoyed my father. He didn't talk to her for a week since she didn't tell him. He was also angry with me since I hadn't told him either. He claimed I thought he wasn't important enough to tell. He didn't believe me when I told him I thought he knew.

"I am your father and _you_ should notify me of your own problems. You're old enough to pick up a phone and call me. Obviously you found yourself capable not to need to tell me, so obviously you are fine without any help from _me._"

The experience was embarrassing. In fact, being diabetic is embarrassing.

My father usually pretends that there is nothing wrong with me. My mother claims that he just doesn't know how to handle my diabetes, and that it's his way of coping with it. She also says that he knows I can take care of myself, so why worry and act like there's something wrong? Ironically enough, for the most part, I also act like there's nothing wrong. So what if there is a little machine that is attached to my body almost twenty-four seven that provides me with insulin to stay alive? So what if without it I would die?

My brother moved out before I became diabetic, and he remembers me pre-diabetic age. When he's around, I doubt it's ever on his mind except when he sees me monitoring my blood sugar before meals.

My mother gushes that I am a great son, and that I handle everything so well and that I don't need help. "No one else would be able to handle it as well as he does," she explains to her friends that my diabetes is not a burden at all. There's nothing I need help with.

I do my best to pretend that I don't need help.

I act normal. I don't tell people. When they see the little black "box" in my pocket, most people think it's a pager. Or a cell phone. If they see the chord some think it's an MP3 player or an iPod. They can think it is whatever they want to think it is as long as they don't know it's really an insulin pump inserted beneath my skin.

I'm normal. I want to be normal. I don't need help.

That's what I try and tell myself. But I do need help.

Ever since starting college two months ago I have been having trouble with my blood sugar. I'm eating different foods than I did at home, and I can't measure the amounts of food I eat in the cafeteria. Normally I would use a measuring cup at home, measure out a serving size, and give myself insulin based on the serving size, but going into the campus mess hall with a measuring cup is a fairly dead give away that I'm not normal. Who the hell measures out their food? Most diabetics I know don't. I do.

But, now, with eating new foods that I don't know the carbohydrate count of, and without the ability to measure out the food, it causes problems.

Having an insulin pump was supposed to make eating out so much easier. If I know the carbohydrate count, I can mathematically calculate how much insulin I need to type into my insulin pump, and my blood sugars are usually perfect.

Guessing the carbohydrate count and serving size has been difficult at school. They use foods I'm not familiar with for meals. It results in my blood sugar going high or low. I hate it when my blood sugars go high. It has always felt like more of a failure to have a high blood sugar than to have a low blood sugar. I don't understand why, but that's what it feels like. My father, during the few times that he stopped pretending there's nothing wrong with me, always used to ask me in that condescending voice of his "Why are you high?" He always had a strange knack of stumbling upon me when I had to give myself an added injection to aid the insulin from my insulin pump, asking questions as to why I had to use needles when I had an insulin pump. He always seemed to sneer at me, as though I had failed him when my blood sugar got too high. Perhaps the idea of being "high" even if it's just my blood sugars and not in the drugged up sense makes my father seem disappointed in me. I wonder if he is ever not disappointed with me.

Of course, I also hate the thought of being high due to the medical connotations. When a person's blood sugar surpasses 240 for an extended period of time, the excess of sugar causes the internal organs to slowly break down in a process called diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA). That's why so many diabetics have problems with their hearts and other vital organs when they do not regulate their blood sugar.

Because of those reasons I'd rather be low than high, so I tend to give myself what I think might be too much insulin versus not enough. Treating for a low blood sugar is also easier. I eat three glucose tablets to bring my blood sugar to the appropriate level in about fifteen minutes versus giving myself an extra insulin injection and hoping that my blood sugar comes down in an hour.

But the guessing is starting to get to me. My blood sugar keeps dropping too low in the middle of the night. I have now woken up more times than I can remember, my body shaking, my body in a state of near shock due to how low my blood sugar dropped during sleep. I've been eating more before bed, lowering my insulin intake during the night, and still my blood sugar drops low.

I keep eating different types of food, yet I keep having problems in the middle of the night.

If I eat too much, my blood sugar could go too high. If that happens, it will take a much longer time to lower my blood sugar in the morning, and my brain is too affected from the high concentration of sugars to think properly during morning classes.

Even after lowering my insulin intake the nighttime issues are not going away.

My blood sugar, upon waking one night, was 37.

A week and a half ago, it was only 22. When the blood sugar drops below 30 and it not treated, irreversible brain damage, heart damage, and even death can occur if not treated as quickly as possible.

I'm afraid I'm going to die in my sleep.

It has me sleeping less, feeling awful in the morning. My schoolwork has been suffering. My grades have been dropping, and my father has found out.

He's been threatening to pull my school funds if I don't get my grades back up. He wonders what the point of paying for my college is if all I am going to do is flunk out. My grades are not that bad, but high B's and low A's are not good enough for him. Honestly, I'm not happy with them either; I'm used to straight A's, but other things are on my mind.

I have talked to my Endocrinologist about what is going on as well as with the dietitian from his office. They have both given me some tips, but their advice is not working.

I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, following doctor's orders exactly (even going out of my way to not eat anything I can't directly count carbohydrates for from the cafeteria), and yet it's not working. When you do what the doctor says, it's all supposed to work, isn't it? My body seems out of whack here in college, and even when I do everything I'm supposed to, it doesn't work.

Why won't it work? It's supposed to fucking work.

I hate feeling so utterly helpless like this. It's like the ultimate failure; to do everything you are supposed to do and have everything go wrong.

I'm not like other diabetics I know. For starters, I eat extremely healthy. No chocolate whatsoever (though I have heard dark chocolate benefits diabetics). I measure out what I can. In the cafeteria, I have a guidebook that tells me what the general carbohydrate count of the food is. I take food items of things that I know the carbohydrate count for sure and avoid what I don't know.

I exercise. I eat on a regular schedule.

Even now I have been taking in less insulin, yet for some reason, I am still dropping incredibly low at night though my blood sugar has been skyrocketing very high during the day. My nights are unpleasant. I can't sleep. I fear death when I go to bed. My days are spent trying to correct my body's nighttime issues.

My body is slowly giving out on me; I can feel it. I'm exhausted all the time. Once, when I was little, I had the flu and was stuck in bed for two and a half weeks feeling utterly miserable.

My body feels in worse shape now than it did then, yet I still need to keep moving, keep working.

The doctor's orders no longer help me. My own research yields varying suggestions that I implement to see if they work. They don't work either. I start to lose my mind as I physically and mentally begin to feel even worse.

I didn't think that it would be possible to feel even worse. I hate being wrong.

Thoughts such as "I'm going to die in my sleep" and "it doesn't matter if I do the homework or not because I will be dead by morning anyway" are always on my mind. I can't get rid of them.

I don't want to die. There's so much I want to do, but I'm helpless to stop it. Still, part of me, a growing part of me, just wants to die to save myself from the rising fear that I can't control my own life, or in this case, death. Yet at the same time, with the way my body feels, it's almost as if I'm slowly dying now anyway. If the pain and exhaustion go away, maybe it won't be so bad.

With thoughts like these rampant in my mind, I did the only thing I could think of: I throw myself into my studies. It doesn't matter. I've still been so unnerved that it's lost its luster. I feel too ill to really concentrate. Besides, getting a degree doesn't seem as important as staying alive.

My nights are haunted with the thought that I will die before the next morning.

It's silly of me to think that. I tell myself that over and over again. Yet after waking up, shaking so badly that I can't even attempt to check my blood sugar, merely drinking an entire 16 oz bottle of orange juice in the middle of the night with my resulting blood sugar the next morning only 83, all I could think was "I would be dead if I hadn't woken up and had that juice."

With the latest threat from my father to pull my college funds after a B on a major paper, I start looking into _other_ options.

I start doing comparative shopping for coffins and funeral services.

At this point, I feel I've hit rock bottom. My entire being feels so drained that I have little will to keep on going. If I fail at college, I will fail at anything else I try to do in life. So what's the point of living?

It will be better too, I've decided. A funeral is probably overall more cost effective for my father than the rest of my college education. My financial burden to my family will be lifted.

The constant fear will end. I won't have to worry if I will die in my sleep. I will know when death comes because I have decided it.

And above that, I will feel better. My body won't feel so washed out. I won't feel so horrible. I won't feel anything at all.

It takes a few days for me to get everything I need in order. My self-composed will. My "suicide" note. I've even printed out comparative costs for my funeral service and coffin to give to my parents stating what type of service I would like.

It's late at night, and I feel so alone. I've chosen death by lethal injection so to speak – an intentional overdose of insulin. For a while I contemplate making it look like an accident. The scenario would be that I have food lying on the table as though I gave myself insulin with the intent of eating but having forgotten, but that scenario defeats the purpose of having gone through the effort of doing all the funeral research. Hence the decision to write a suicide note as well.

I give myself the injection via syringe. My insulin pump gives me insulin as needed, but for some reason, there's something so much more peaceful about having one injection. I've even detached my insulin pump, pulling out the needle from beneath my skin so I can be free of the damned contraption, dying without being attached to a faulty life support system, for that's basically what it has become.

I lie down in bed. Before too long I can feel the insulin taking effect as the shakes start in my body, the telltale sign of a low blood sugar as my lips grow numb. It's when my lips go numb that my mind, which has been numb this whole time, starts to suddenly wake up.

They'll miss me. My family will miss me. My father will be so disappointed.

This is the ultimate failure. I will have failed at overcoming this stupid disease.

No one will ever remember me fondly if I kill myself. So stupid. So un-heroic.

These thoughts overwhelm me, and I cry for the first time in years. The last time I cried was the time I was in the hospital, sitting alone in the hospital bed because my mother decided not to stay the night after I was admitted to the hospital due to my diagnosis.

Now it will be me who's leaving them, and I don't want to leave. I want to stay. I don't want to die. I don't want to be a failure.

My body shaking, I move out of bed, moving slowly as my body has become too sluggish to work right. I reach into my fridge and gulp down the entire jug of orange juice.

The next hour is blurry, but I vaguely remember that I got a shower and re-attached my insulin pump, and I eat lots of food to counterbalance all the insulin in my system. How much had I pumped into my system? Way too much. It would have killed me in another hour if I had waited.

That was last week. I'm still alive.

Believe it or not, my blood sugars haven't been as bad this week, though still not perfect.

Today I decided to come to a support group meeting. I'd never been to one before, and I thought that perhaps there might be something that someone could suggest for me.

It seemed useless though. The talk the woman gave was about needing a good emotional support group. Then strangers talked to other strangers about their experiences. While that's what I thought I wanted, I felt too far out of reach from the rest of the diabetics. They seemed to be able to handle everything just fine. But not me because I'm a failure as I've already proven by my pathetic suicide attempt which I also technically failed to go through with properly. A total failure.

I'm so angry with myself that part of me wishes I had a clone so I could beat myself up with how frustrated and angry I am at myself.

Maybe I should just leave.

That's when I noticed him. He was talking to another diabetic, encouraging the other to open up about his experiences. Once I noticed him, I looked away, but not before I felt his gaze land on me.

I guess that was when he decided he would come talk to me. He actually _sauntered_ over toward me, giving me a wide smile.

"Yo. My name's Uzumaki Naruto. Yours?"

All I did was stare at him for a moment. He was still smiling widely. He had bright blond hair, blue eyes, and these weird lines on his cheeks that almost looked like whisker marks. I wondered if they were tattoos as they seemed too symmetrically shaped for them to be natural. The other diabetic looked at my expectantly, and while normally I would ignore someone who has introduced himself so boisterously, I feel that I can't ignore him as we're both diabetic.

"Uchiha Sasuke."

"Hi Sasuke, nice to meet you." All I could do was stare at his blue eyes, wondering how another diabetic could seem so happy when all I felt like was a failure. Why could this boy do it, and I couldn't? Why could someone else handle what I could not? Why was I such a failure? Realizing my train of thought, I blinked, and sighed.

The blond, Naruto I think he said his name was, actually seemed like he was concerned about me. I wanted to snort at the thought. A total stranger was more concerned about me when my own father had no clue how badly I needed his concern. Ironically enough, the guy in front of me asked me if I was here because my parents had dragged me along. As if my father would care enough to come along with me, and as if I would tell him or my mother about my issues anyway.

"My parents don't even know I'm here. I am trying to find a place to belong, but I don't know if I fit in, even at a place like this."

My words clearly shocked him. I excused myself and left.

How could someone be so happy while being diabetic? What was I doing wrong? I felt even more like a failure in comparison to this stranger who smiled like life was fucking perfect.

"Hey! Sasuke, wait up!"

I turned around, surprised when that other diabetic, Naruto, had run out after me. Unsure of what he wanted, all I could do was wait for him to catch up to me.

"So what sort of diabetic issues do you have?" Naruto asked in such a friendly tone, it was like he wanted to know what college I attended.

Perhaps it was because no one had ever bothered to ask me that question before, or perhaps part of me just wanted to see the smile get wiped off his face when he heard my issues: I did what I'd never done before.

I told a random stranger – hell – I told _someone_ all of my diabetic problems.

Throughout my entire rant of issues with my parents, the orders from my doctor that didn't seem to work, my nighttime low blood sugars, and even my suicide attempt, Naruto looked at me quietly and expectantly.

Instead of losing his smile as I thought for sure he would – what kind of insane person (besides me) confesses to attempted suicide? There was no way he didn't find that shocking – he merely scratched his head looking thoughtful.

The next question out of his mouth took me completely off guard.

"Do you take vitamins?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you take vitamins?" he repeated.

"No."

"Ah, well, you should. You see, when I was younger, I didn't eat all that healthy. So, even before I was diabetic, the doctor put me on multi-vitamins. Over the years I've noticed an interesting pattern. When I forget to take my vitamins, I get moody and depressed. I did a bit of research and found out the effect of B vitamins have on mental health. If you get that amount you're supposed to it will make you feel better. Well, okay, _I_ didn't actually do the research; my Dad did because he's just awesome like that, but I read over what he found, so now I make sure that I don't forget to take my vitamins because it makes me feel a hell of a lot better. For you it sounds like your body was probably going totally haywire on you because of your sugars going up and down and up and down like that that you mentally just sorta lost it. Taking vitamins will make you less depressed and emo like."

I stared at him incredulously.

"Are you being serious?" I asked him. He nodded.

"Yep. Try it! I use something called Alpha-Betic which is a multi-vitamin with some sort of thingy or other in it that's supposed to be good for diabetics even though there's no research saying otherwise, but what they hey? It has all those essential vitamins anyway, and it couldn't hurt if it helps, right? True wisdom straight from yours truly! This is Dr. Uzumaki prescribing vitamins to his patient Sasuke!"

Vitamins. He offered me advice to take fucking _vitamins_ as a solution after I spilled my guts out to him.

"You also shouldn't be such a bastard about what people think. Who cares if you bring in a measuring cup at school? You seem to have an air about you that you could just glare at people and they will leave you alone."

Bastard? I'm a _bastard_?! Who the hell does he think he is, calling me a bastard?

I glared at him.

"Yeah! That's a great glare to use! And here's my number if you wanna call and chat 'cuz I love talking with other diabetics. Oh! And I may have an idea to help solve the whole dropping low in the middle of the night thing too, but I gotta call up some friends, or, well, kinda friends. I don't really know her but I know her brother, and he's diabetic, but she's good with insurance stuff so it might work out, but I don't want to say what it is in case it doesn't work out because I don't want to get your hopes up in case it doesn't. Some new technology is coming out that would greatly help solve your issues if I can figure out a way for you to get to it. You know, come to think of it, I could ask the old Hag too. I'll ask lots of people! It'll give me an excuse to get outta doing my homework for a bit. So, give me a call."

He pulled out a little notebook from one of his many pockets (I just noticed his cargo pants) and took about half a minute fishing through the rest of his pockets to find a pencil. He gave me his name and number on a ripped off sheet of notebook paper along with the name of the multi-vitamin he recommended.

I wasn't quite sure what to do with him standing there and grinning at me like there was absolutely nothing wrong. Trying to give my hands something to do, I ripped off a little corner of the notebook paper he'd just handed me, borrowed his pencil, and gave him my number as well.

"Just in case you get that information," I said, honestly trying to keep the hope out of my voice. He grinned at me.

"Don't get your hopes up too much, but I'll see what I can do," he said.

But it was too late. He'd already gotten my hopes up. I couldn't even resist smiling back at the guy. He was offering a possible solution to my problem. How could I not smile?

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Yep! No problem." He waved and then headed back into where the rest of the diabetics were gathering. He didn't look back as I watched him re-enter the building. Once he went through the doors, I turned and headed toward my car.

The entire drive home I felt calm. What Naruto had said, after thinking about it, made sense.

Part of my depression could be an imbalance in my body. I'd been feeling so horrible physically that it was sure to affect my mentality. Also, perhaps I wasn't eating quite as healthy as I thought now that I was at school, and I decided I would research what types of foods were high in vitamin B instead of taking the multi-vitamin. It was better to get vitamins from a direct source of nutrition rather than a supplement. Then again, to correctly get everything balanced out by calculating the needed vitamin percentages with the college food that I had would leave me with the same problem I had while trying to count carbohydrates in the cafeteria without using a measuring cup.

The multi-vitamin would surely suffice until I was returned to the safety of my own home where I didn't care if there were prying eyes to watch what I did.

Still...watching Naruto tonight had been somehow liberating.

He didn't hide anything. He didn't hold anything back. I could tell that he was one of _those_ people who told complete strangers about himself. I was a private person, and I preferred people not to know too much about me. Yet, on the other hand, he seemed to be just as intent on being "normal" as I was. Instead of hiding it, he put it out in the open, saying "Hey, look at me! I'm diabetic. Get over it." And that's all there was to it. It was part of his life that he showed to people, explained that he was capable of handling things himself, and they believed him and let him be.

Though he seemed like the kind of guy that could get on a person's nerves easily because of how open he was.

I also bet there were quite a few people who would have a hard time believing him completely normal once he showed them the insulin pump's tubing inserted underneath his skin keeping him alive.

I remember once, when I was younger, and I had to ride the bus home from school. I had had my insulin pump site (a site is the location where the needle/tubing gets inserted beneath the skin) inserted in my stomach. I had stretched my arms up into the air, and my shirt had ridden up slightly.

For some reason, an unusual amount of people, girls my age especially, have a tendency to watch my every move. Perhaps that has added to my paranoia of telling people too much about myself (except of course for the way my mouth seemed to work of its own accord, spilling my secrets to a stranger tonight). Two girls had sat opposite of me on the bus and had seen my site as I stretched, my t-shirt rising over the white site where they caught a glimpse of where the insulin pump chord connected to my body. The scenario was not one I liked to remember, but I could still picture it perfectly.

"What is that?" girl one asks. I tell her it's none of her business. The second girl doesn't seem to take a hint.

"Is that _in_ you?" girl two asks.

"Yes, there's a little needle," not quite, but I don't go into details for the girls, "beneath my skin that attaches me to a machine. Now shut the fuck up and leave me the hell alone!" I hiss at them. They don't speak again, but they stare at me in morbid fascination. Out of the corner of my eye I see them looking at me, their eyes deep with sympathy and questions. I hear one of them whisper,

"I could never live like that."

I tense, but don't answer. All I can think is, "You would if you had to."

I sighed, ridding myself of that memory. I hate the way people look at me when they find out I'm diabetic. They never know how to act. While I want to be as normal as possible, I haven't yet been able to deny that I am different at times. Most people either act too concerned or not concerned enough.

My good mood from speaking with Naruto all but vanished upon returning home. I clenched and unclenched my fists. I don't want to have another night like the one I did a week before. I pulled out the piece of paper that Naruto gave me with his contact information. I debated with myself, feeling weak again. What would he think if I called him now?

The whole point of going to that meeting was to get help. I hadn't gotten exactly what I wanted. My questions weren't really answered, but there was someone who had offered help. Maybe it was all bullshit in the form of vitamins, and maybe he didn't know anything about what he was trying to find out with the technology, but hell, he had cared enough to try. That was saying more for him than my own family. Someone caring about what happened to me was more helpful for my mentality than I would have thought possible.

Still, I had this strange urge to call him. I couldn't explain it. It just seemed to fit. Perhaps it was the same urge that had told me to spill my secrets to him. It was a good feeling, so I figured I would go with it.

"It takes strength to admit you need help," I muttered the old saying to myself. I also had a feeling that this Naruto person wouldn't give a damn if I called him and wouldn't think of it as a weakness. I pulled out my cell phone and called the blond I had met tonight. He answered cheerfully.

"Yo Sasuke!" He said enthusiastically. I raised my eyebrows, curious as to how he knew it was me. He didn't leave me guessing for long. "I entered your number into my phone already and saw your name pop up on the caller ID!" he said proudly, as though I was going to give him an award for being so thoughtful as to type my name and number into his phone.

Yes, I'll admit it was strangely flattering. But there was no way I was going to tell him that.

"Hn," I murmur.

"So whatcha need from me?" I paused. That was a good question. What did I need from him? I wondered if it would sound stupid that I just felt the need to call him. It sounded stupid. I had never gotten an urge to do something like that. Yet that was truly how it had felt.

"Do you remember all that bullshit they talked about tonight about needing an emotional support group?" I asked. He laughed.

"Yeah."

"I…I think I might need one of those."

"The great Uzumaki Naruto at your service!"

Yeah, I could tell this guy was going to get on my nerves after a while.

But for some reason, I couldn't help but smile.

**Chapter 3: Not So Dumb Blondes**

* * *

_General information about diabetes:_

1 in 2 type I diabetic teens develop depression. Seven out of ten think about suicide.

Diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA) used to be the leading cause of death among type I diabetics before insulin became available. Many people who do not take care of themselves still die due to DKA.

_Notes about my life:_

Two of my great aunts died due to the resulting problem of DKA back in the 1940s/1950s.

I had Sasuke's problem around four and a half years ago. My sugars kept dropping low in the middle of the night, leaving my body feeling _horrible,_ and sadly enough, so horrible that there were times I truly did wish I would just die. Thankfully I got the problem worked out. Yay!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you have any general questions, let me know. - Jelp


	3. Chapter 3: Not So Dumb Blondes

Sorry I haven't been as good about updating as I would like. Funny how life gets in the way of things.

**WARNINGS**: Yaoi. Mixing of present and past tense. Usage of second person.

**Highs and Lows**

**Chapter 3: Not So Dumb Blondes**

_(Uzumaki Naruto's point of view)_

I couldn't help but grin widely when I saw the number of the guy I had just entered into my phone appear on the screen. I was slightly surprised that Sasuke had decided to call back so quickly; I had thought he'd wait another twenty minutes at least, but whatever.

When I answered I let him know that I had just typed his number in, let him know I did care and that I had thought that I would hear from him again.

It's good to be right. I'm just cool like that. I know how to read people.

With what he told me, he seemed like he had never had anyone to really talk to before about being diabetic. The whole burst of angry words with him spilling his guts seemed like it had surprised _him_ more than it had me.

He gave off that "I don't want to need anyone" type of vibe. The keyword there was the he didn't _want_ to need anyone. I bet finally spilling his guts had felt good. Even if I hadn't been able to get the information that I wanted to give him, I still would have called him back. His broodish nature bugged me. I hated seeing people looking so upset, and I guess since he was a fellow diabetic, it made me more determined to make sure that someone talked to him.

Of course, when he admitted that he thought that he might need an emotional support group verified that he needed help.

We talked for several hours. Well, mostly I talked. He just made these weird ass "hn" noises every now and then to show me that he was listening.

I talked to him about some of the other diabetics I knew which included Gaara. Sasuke didn't talk much at all, but at the same time I got the feeling that he didn't want to get off the phone with me either. From what I knew of him (which wasn't that much, but hey, didn't I say I'm just cool like that at knowing how to read people?) I knew he wouldn't feel bad blowing me off and saying he had other shit to do if he didn't want to talk to me anymore.

In fact, I was the one at 1:00am who finally said that I had to go so I could take a shower before bed. I let him know tonight was a site change (aka when I need to replace where the needle from my insulin pump goes), he understood.

When I finally got off the phone with him, I sat on my bed thinking about a bunch of things.

I didn't have class till 11:00 the next morning, so I could probably call and speak to my doctor before class to get the information I wanted. I could always go on the internet and try and look up some of the information myself, but my doctor just seemed to know more about how it affected people.

It's also easier to ask questions to a person than to google. Less typing, more asking.

Of course, as a doctor, she sees lots of different cases every day, so she has lots of first hand knowledge with how the body works differently for different diabetics. She's also never steered me wrong yet, and I have a feeling she'll be able to help Sasuke figure out why he's having so many issues.

But first, before I call her tomorrow, I do need to go on the internet to get something; I need to find some new blonde jokes to tell her.

* * *

"Thank you for calling Central Medical. If this is a true medical emergency, please hang up and dial the local medical emergency number. If you are calling from a physician's office, please press-"

I bypassed listening to the rest of the message, knowing it by heart. I pressed zero to get me to the operator and Central Medical. A different voice responded that the previous recording.

Ah, real people.

"Central Medical, how may I help you?" the familiar voiced clipped.

"Yo! This is Central Medical's most awesome patient-"

"_Naruto?!_ Do you really have a medical problem this time? Last time you distracted Dr. Tsunade for over twenty minutes chatting about nothing at all. The patients were not happy waiting."

"Aww, Shizune-nee-chan! Don't be like that! It's Tsunade-baa-chan's fault anyway. She'd rather talk to me than any of her other patients. And we _were_ talking about medical stuff!"

"Talking about an episode of Scrubs does not clarify as medical stuff!"

"There was a diabetic in the one episode," I grumbled.

"Naruto." The warning tone in her voice made me grin. It wasn't my fault that Tsunade loved to get away from certain patients that were difficult to work with. I knew for a fact how annoying some of them were having worked at Central Medical part time. Tsunade did her best to bypass the rude patients and hand them off to someone else, and I was pretty sure Shizune knew that too.

Even so, I knew I was getting on Shizune's nerves, so I figured I'd better tell her that I really did need to talk to Tsunade-baa-chan.

"Listen, I really do need to talk to her this time about something important," I said, still grinning, but making sure Shizune understood that I was serious.

"Well, she's with a patient right now-"

"She knows my number. Have her call me back soon puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeease!" I sing-songed happily.

"Goodbye Naruto," Shizune said as she hung up. I chuckled. It was so much fun to rile up Shizune. Shizune was actually a nurse at Central Medical, not the real receptionist. In fact, she was one of Tsunade's apprentices or interns or whatever they are, but she doubled as receptionist when needed. The support staff never lasted very long through Tsunade's random temper tantrums.

I know from first hand experience working there.

Last summer I started working there late May until the end of August when school started up again. I was the only one of the six people hired at the beginning of the summer who was still there at the end. A total of _fifteen_ other support staff workers had been in and out during my three and a half months there.

Tsunade's a great doctor, don't get me wrong, but she's got some weird quirks – like her temper and her tendency to drink right after getting off work.

Now, it's not like she uses a scalpel to slice people open or a needle to sew somebody's head back together and she's drunk off her ass when she does it – in fact, like I said, she doesn't even drink till after work. But as soon as 5:00 hits, the bottle comes out. If you're not out of there early, being on the end of her temper after a bad day is painful. Literally.

Of course, getting thumped around by your boss is never a good thing, but it's only if you do something really stupid like lose somebody's insurance card.

That bump on my head lasted about a week!

Okay, so she's not that violent _all_ the time after drinking, but seeing her like that even once or twice isn't good for a lot of the workers. Thankfully she's such a great doctor that she hasn't ever messed a patient up. She just doesn't accept failure from her staff.

I looked at my watch and saw that it was 9:34. Dad was going to pick me up on his way between job locations in a few minutes. I'd get to college early, but since I don't drive, I don't complain.

Besides, I like getting a chance to talk to my dad. He's an awesome guy, and due to his work, we don't get to talk as much as Mom and I do since he's so busy. The fact that he makes it a point to drive me somewhere so we can talk at least once a week might not seem like a lot, but if you knew how much my dad does, and how much he works his schedule around so that he can spend time with Mom and me, you'd find it amazing too.

Usually Mom drives me in at 7:30 before she goes to work. I usually just go to the computer lab and play games online...er, I mean, do homework until class starts.

I do my homework! Honest! I just don't usually do it at home; just at school because I hate homework at home. The thought of doing it at home makes me cringe, so I make sure to finish it at my University.

Anyway, on Fridays Dad picks me up at 9:45, so I can sleep in a bit. He travels between working at the main office and going to over-see things personally at the other office branches on Fridays.

I jumped when the phone rang again. I didn't even bother saying hello when I answered; I knew who it'd be without even looking at the caller ID.

"Why did the blonde helicopter pilot crash?" I asked with a grin.

"Why?" she prompted.

"She got too cold so she turned off the fan!"

Tsunade cackled at the lame blonde joke. They really weren't all that funny, but I think she got so wound up with some of the patients that the jokes put her at ease. At least, that's what Shizune thought when she let me know how dumb the jokes were. One former member of the support staff said she laughed so hard because she drank too much.

He was fired on the spot for that comment.

"Alright brat, what do you need?"

"I met this guy last night-"

"Is that so? Well Sakura will be secretly upset you've found someone else, and a guy no less," Tsunade interjected lewdly. I rolled my eyes. Sakura was one of the nurses that worked with Tsunade. I've been trying to get her to date me since I met her. So far, no such luck. I get turned down all the time. First she wouldn't go out with me because I was her "patient." Then when I started working there she said, "We definitely can't go out now! If we break up, how awkward will working together be?"

I don't work there any more. Her new excuse is, "I'm too busy for a boyfriend."

"It's not like that! Ew. Geeze. I met this guy last night at that group thing Mom made me go to. He's another diabetic and is having some major issues with his blood sugars. He's on an insulin pump, but he's having troubles now that he's living on campus. Apparently his doctor hasn't been able to help him much either. I thought you might be able to see him and figure it out since you're such an amazing doctor."

"Cut the crap flattery. You must really feel bad for this guy if you're trying to flatter me like that. You know just like everyone else that comes into the office he'll need a referral from his general doctor if he wants to switch to me as his endocrinologist."

Yeah, I did know all that. I had worked there after all. Just because it had taken me a little longer than the other people to get what the hell a referral was didn't mean I was stupid.

And just because I still am not a hundred percent sure what it is also doesn't mean I'm stupid.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll let him know all that. But seriously, can you help him?" I asked her.

"I don't know what his problems are, but if he is a diabetic, I'll work something out."

"Did you get any of those...umm...sticker things in? I thought they might help Sasuke."

"So your new friend has a name. Sasuke eh? And what do you mean sticker things?"

"Yeah, his name's Sasuke, and you know. The sticker things," I said, wishing I could remember what they were called. I had actually helped talk to the insurance company to get the office some trial ones. Do you remember me telling you about Gaara's sister, Temari, who works for the insurance company? I talked with her about seeing if she could get some sticker things for the office to lend out to patients.

"What. Sticker. Things?" Tsunade demanded.

"The sticker things that test blood sugar!"

There was a long pause before she answered, and I had a feeling she was trying to keep herself calm.

"Naruto, you idiot, those are called CGMS's. They're not sticker things! They're electronic devices that attach to the skin and continuously monitor blood sugar."

"Yeah, yeah. But they have a sticky thing on them that makes 'em stick to the skin. Sticker things."

"I have never been able to understand how you remember so much information about diabetes yet can seem so retarded at times."

"Hey! Don't say retarded. That's rude." I yelled into the phone indignantly.

"Whatever. And yes, we got the "sticker things" in. I've turned those over to Sakura. I'll talk with Sasuke and then if I feel he can handle one, I'll give him one for the five-day trial. And you should come in with him too and learn more about it. Sticker things," Tsunade grumbled to herself about the term. "_Honestly_ Naruto. I'll explain how they work to you too."

"Cool. Thanks!"

"No problem. Hmm..."

I waited as she paused over the phone, wondering what had made her thoughtful all of a sudden.

"What is it?"

"Do you know the name of his doctor?" she asked me. I scrunched my forehead thinking. We had talked a fair amount the night before, but he hadn't mentioned his doctor. Well, I guess that was because I had done most of the talking.

"He didn't say." Come to think of it though, I had a feeling I knew where she was going with this.

"Alright. Find out. Let me know. I have to go now. Shizune is not so subtly trying to tell me my patients are getting annoyed. For heaven's sake I was only on the phone a couple minutes," she grumbled. I laughed.

"Later old Hag!"

"Why you little-"

"Bye!" I said, laughing to myself as I hung up. I could imagine her cursing at the phone as she slammed it down in the office.

I was still laughing to myself as my dad arrived to pick me up for school.

* * *

Class ends at 2:00 for me on Fridays.

I hadn't thought to ask Sasuke what time he got done class (I think he mentioned having Friday classes if "hn" means yes.) I also didn't think to ask if works. I wanted to call him, but I didn't at the same time.

Tsunade had said to find out the name of his doctor, so I needed to call him sometime. Yet I didn't want to call him just in case I started to annoy him.

People tell me I can get annoying. Can you believe that?

Me – annoying! Yeah right.

Still, I didn't want to bug the guy. He seems like he can be an ass if you get on his bad side.

But I'm not very patient, so I decided to throw caution to the wind, and I gave him a call. It rang a few times before it went into an automated voice message stating that he was Uchiha Sasuke. No personal message, just his voice stating his name followed by that recording of a woman's voice telling me he was unavailable and blah blah blah.

While I wondered to myself whether or not he had the default ring tone set on his phone or another song, I got distracted and wasn't ready for it when the phone prompted me to leave a message.

"Did it beep? It beeped didn't it? Umm, uh, hey Sasuke. This is Naruto. Give me a-"

"Message has been deleted." The same automated woman's voice came over the phone, stating.

"What? Erased? What the-?"

"To leave a new message, please press one now."

Crap. I fumbled with my phone, accidentally hitting the four below the one instead of the one. I didn't have the phone to my ear, but I could hear the woman's voice come on again, faintly giving me more directions.

"I am sorry. That is not a valid option. To leave a new-"

I hung up the phone, cursing at it and the stupid woman's voice.

I dialed again, hoping that he would answer on the second ring. When he didn't, I made sure to pay a little more attention to when the voice mail came on.

"Hey Sasuke. I just called. Your phone's stupid. It erased my first message. Anyway, give me a call back alright?" I went to hang up before I realized that he might not know who I was. "Oh, yeah, wait. This is Naruto. Right. Call me back. And change your voice mail message. It sucks."

I hit the end button, listening to see if it told me it was going to erase the phone message or not. Thankfully it didn't say anything, and it seemed to go through normally.

Stupid messed up voice mails. I hate leaving voice mails in the first place, and I never know what to say for people that I don't know that well.

I went to put my phone back in my pocket, but before it was in all the way it started ringing loudly. I grinned when I saw Sasuke's name appear on the caller idea.

"Yo!" I greeted him.

"You called?" he deadpanned. I snorted. For some reason, the way he said it came out very cliché. He seemed slightly annoyed when I didn't answer him right away, and I began to snicker instead. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Sorry. Um, yeah. So Dr. Tsunade, the endocrinologist I go to, suggested that you come in and talk with her. She's an awesome doctor, and she thinks that she might be able to help you. Of course, normal fees and all that apply. Umm...what else did she want me to ask you about?" I wondered out-loud thoughtfully.

Sasuke muttered something that sounded like "dobe" but I didn't ask him to clarify.

"Your doctor asked you to ask me something?" Sasuke asked, sounding curious.

"That's it! Doctor. Your doctor. You're a genius Sasuke. You made me remember that she wanted me to ask you who's your endocrinologist now?"

"I'm a genius, hm?" He sounded amused for some reason. "My doctor is Dr. Orochimaru," he replied. I made a face and a disgusted sound when I heard that name.

"You go and see that asshole?"

"Excuse me?" Sasuke asked sounding offended that I had insulted his doctor.

"Trust me, that guy is crazy. No wonder you're having issues. That's probably why Tsunade asked me to ask you. She knows things like that. Kinda creepy she just knows things. You know what I mean?"

"No, not really."

"Oh, uh, well..."

"Is there anything else?" he clipped. I narrowed my eyes and frowned.

"You know, I'm helping you here and you're acting all cold and snappy."

"I'm supposed to be doing a physics lab right now. When I felt my phone vibrate I went to the bathroom. I don't have much time to talk," Sasuke explained.

"Oh. Whoops. You should've just waited until the end of class," I told him.

"Fine, I'll call you later."

"Later!" But he had already hung up.

I played with my phone in my hand, wondering if I should call Tsunade now or not. She'd be interested to know that Sasuke's doctor was Orochimaru. One of the things that Tsunade had often been upset about over the summer was the number of patients who Orochimaru had originally seen and who had transferred in to see her. Their blood sugars tended to be horrible if they were diabetic. She claimed that Orochimaru wasn't really an apt doctor, and that his assistant, Kabuto, was the one who could actually treat patients; but Kabuto didn't have a practitioner 's license anymore because he lost it due to malpractice.

He now worked for Orochimaru as an "assistant."

Apparently Orochimaru became an endocrinologist to work specifically with patients who had thyroid problems. (Endocrinologists see other patients besides just diabetics.) Seeing just those patients apparently hadn't brought in much money, so he'd opened his doctor's office up to other patients as well.

Hmm...

Why was I remembering all of this stuff that Tsunade told me about Orochimaru again?

Oh yeah.

Sasuke.

Now, should I call Tsunade so close to the end of the workday or not?

"Ah hell. I'll just bug her again," I muttered to myself as I dialed the office number, once again bypassing the initial option to get to a live person to talk to while hoping she was in an okay mood to talk to.

"Thank you for calling Central Medical. How may I help you?"

"Sakura-chaaaan!" I sing-songed happily drawing out the name of my favorite nurse. It wasn't often that she answered the phone. Things must have been pretty hectic if she was answering.

She, like Tsunade, had a temper. She (also like Tsunade) lost it at times. It wasn't pretty when Sakura got mad at the patients, especially over the phone. It was like a whole other personality emerged. They kept her away from phones when they could help it – but don't let her know that. She thinks they don't like her on the phones because she's more useful elsewhere.

"Na-ru-to," Sakura said, drawing out my name in an exasperated voice. "You can't keep calling and distracting Tsunade-shishou from her work just because you feel like it."

"Oi! Oi!" Did they only think I called to bug Tsunade? "I have a problem! Tsunade's trying to help me help out another diabetic. A new patient transfer from Orochimaru."

"Orochimaru?" Sakura gasped. I knew mentioning that name would make her see I wasn't joking around.

"Yeah. This new patient's having some big problems. Tsunade asked me to get some information to give to her."

"Alright, let me get her."

Sakura put me on hold as I listened to a local soft rock station play over the phone. The only time I had ever almost gotten fired had been when I had changed our on hold music to a heavy metal/rock station. Tsunade nearly skinned me alive when a mother called the office in hysterics because her twelve-year-old daughter had asked what the singer meant when he said he couldn't "get it up."

How was I supposed to know a twelve year old would call the office? Isn't that a little young? Shouldn't the parent do it? Besides, she'd probably learn about that kind of thing soon anyway.

The music abruptly stopped, and Tsunade's voice came on instead.

"Well?"

"Hi to you too," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Uh, nothing," I said quickly. Tsunade seemed to be in a bad mood. Must have seen an annoying patient or something. "Sasuke's doctor is Orochimaru."

Tsunade snorted.

"I almost bet money on that."

"You're horrible at gambling," I said smiling.

"Yeah, yeah. So did you talk to him about getting a referral?"

"I explained all that to him, and he said he would."

"Have him in here by Thursday of next week."

"Sure thing. Later!"

"Wait just a minute. Where's my blonde joke?"

I laughed to myself. I knew she loved those jokes.

"Why are blond jokes so short?"

"Why?"

"So brunettes can remember them."

When I hung up the phone, I could still hear Shizune's squawk of indignation as Tsunade retold her the joke.

**Next Chapter: New Friends**

* * *

_General information about diabetes:_

Endocrinologists are the specialty doctors that see diabetics. There are quite a few "specialty" doctors that diabetics should see (such as a podiatrist aka a foot doctor, not to be confused with pediatrician aka a child's doctor).

A CGMS (Continuous Glucose Monitor System) is a new device that is not yet covered by (most) insurance companies. It's a little machine that attaches to a diabetic that monitors the blood sugar every five minutes. Instead of using a pinprick of blood to measure blood glucose, it uses an electrical current. Not quite sure how it works exactly, but it does work. It lets diabetics know if their blood sugars are going too high or low. A few select endocrinologist offices offer them for free trial periods.

_Notes about my life:_

I have actually tried a CGMS. They're neat, but annoying. They're also funky looking.

Oh, and the blonde joke thing – I really do tell my endocrinologist blonde jokes. And just for the record, I am blonde, and I love blonde jokes.

Hope you liked the chapter! Let me know what you thought. ~ Jelp


	4. Chapter 4: New Friends

**Highs and Lows**

**Chapter 4: New Friends**

_(Uchiha Sasuke's point of view)_

At the end of my physics lab I was finally able to listen to the message that Naruto had left me.

"Hey Sasuke. I just called. Your phone's stupid. It erased my first message. Anyway, give me a call back alright?" There was a pause before he spoke again. "Oh, yeah, wait. This is Naruto. Right. Call me back. And change your voice mail message. It sucks."

I snorted. This guy was unbelievable, but it made me smirk at his antics nonetheless. Change my voice mail message? I don't have a personal message, just my name. He could hate it if he liked. It wasn't as though I ought to waste my time explaining that I was unavailable and for them to leave their name and number. Not to mention why should I tell them to leave the time they called? First of all, if I didn't pick up, obviously I was unavailable. Second, if they had my cell phone number, then I had theirs. I rarely give this number out. Third, the voicemail would automatically tell me what time I received the voicemail.

I shook my head, wondering why I was wasting my time thinking about how leaving an elongated voice message was a waste of time.

Even though I had already called him once, our conversation had ended quickly. I called Naruto back.

"Hey Sasuke!" Naruto said enthusiastically. I think enthusiastically was the only way he talked.

"Hn," I made a non-committal grunt.

"Er, I guess that's a hi. Umm, anyway, uh…"

"You were going to talk to me about the doctor's office?"

"Right! Yeah, so are you busy this Thursday?"

"I have a class from 8:00 – 9:15, then I am free."

"Cool! Schedule an appointment for 10:30. I have a class then, but I'm going to skip it. I'm gonna come with you since Dr. Tsunade said she and I ought to discuss the CGMS I want you to try since I want to try it too." For some reason, I wasn't surprised he was skipping class. I was, however, surprised that he would be coming with me.

"You're coming? And what is a CGMS?"

"Yeah, that okay? Easier if she trains us both. And a CGMS…wait…" he paused and I could hear him muttering under his breath, "yeah, that's it. A CGMS stands for a continuous glucose monitor system. It's a device that constantly monitors your blood sugar."

"I've heard of that. They're rather expensive. I don't want to buy one," I explained. I doubted my father would give me a pay raise for that if I told him what I needed it for. After all, he'd already been threatening to pull my funding for school.

"No – no! It's a free trial. The doctor's office has a supply that they let patients use." Now that's a tempting thought.

"Fine. Thursday at 10:30."

"Cool!" Naruto rattled off the number and gave me the address, telling me to give him a call once I got the appointment.

"Bye!"

"Bye."

* * *

After my class on Thursday, I headed over to the place Naruto had mentioned. It wasn't too far from campus. I was unsurprised to see Naruto waiting outside of the building, waving at me enthusiastically. I idly wondered if he had ADHD.

He led me inside the building, walking backwards as he told me that he had managed to get all his work for his class done, so it didn't matter if he went to class or not. I honestly didn't care.

"This is Central Medical," Naruto informed me excitedly as he opened one of the many doors in the office building. This office looked like all the others we has passed, the only difference was the gold lettering on the glass door that read:

DR. TSUNADE, M.D.

ENDOCHRONOLOGY

CENTRAL MEDICAL

"I'd never have guessed," I deadpanned as I stared right at the big, capital letters CENTRAL MEDICAL.

Naruto squinted his eyes, looking at me as though trying to figure out if I were being serious or not.

"Was that a joke?" he asked. My eyebrow twitched.

"Sure."

"It's just, you don't seem like the type of guy who jokes much. You must be the sarcastic type."

Obviously.

"Speaking of jokes, do you know any blonde jokes?"

The expression on his face made me want to say, "Yeah, you're a dumb blonde joke," but I was afraid he might not get the joke.

"Why?" I asked instead.

"Tsunade-baa-chan loves 'em!"

"Hn."

"I bet you don't know any. Don't worry. I'll tell two," Naruto said grinning at me as though telling her a blonde joke in my place was doing me a favor.

"Thanks," I bit out.

"You know, you seem extra irritable. Should you test?"

"Test?"

"You know – test! Check your blood sugar. I get really irritable when I drop low. So do most diabetics that I know."

I just looked at Naruto.

I'd never really talked to any other diabetics before, but what he said made sense. With no one else to compare things to, I'd never asked if having a low blood sugar made other diabetics feel irritable.

Realizing we hadn't even walked through the door yet, I opened it, and walked in, talking as I went.

"I'll let them know I'm here and then 'test' when I sit down." Naruto just nodded at me as he walked up with me to the front. For half a moment it felt rather silly walking in with him. The idea that someone was coming with me to my doctor's appointment felt strange. I don't even remember the last time my own mother had accompanied me, but I did know it had been years. Naruto had said that he was here for an appointment too. He had explained that Tsunade was going to talk to him about the same thing, and as it was strictly informational and not an actual doctor's inspection, it would save her time if we did the informational session about the technology together. My doctor's visit would be private, and then the training would be done together.

While it almost felt like Naruto was babying me by coming, it was strangely nice to think that someone else would be there. It was almost like he cared – even if he was getting information for his own benefit as well.

"Shizune-nee-chan!" Naruto greeted warmly. I looked at the woman behind the counter. She had dark hair and eyes, and looked nothing like Naruto. Clearly the older sister term was just to add affection to their relationship.

Apparently Naruto got along with a lot of people, not just me.

"Hi Naruto," Shizune said. She was typing away at her computer, not even looking up from what she was doing when she answered, knowing his voice immediately.

"This is Sasuke!" Naruto said loudly. I could practically feel the twitch in my eye. Shizune turned from her place at the computer and smiled at me.

"Welcome to Central Medical. It's always nice to see new faces. Can I have your referral and insurance card?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled them out, unfolded the referral and gave both items to her. She handed me forms to fill out, forms that asked details to my previous medical history. As I turned she said something about getting my insurance card back to me as soon as possible after she had made a copy of it for their records.

"Don't forget to test your blood sugar," Naruto reminded me. I bristled. I don't know if I were more annoyed at the fact that he had remembered and I hadn't, or that he seemed to be implying I still seemed irritable.

Nonetheless, when we sat down, I pulled out my glucometer and "tested" my blood sugar.

52.

Naruto looked over my shoulder, looking at the number. Normally I would have brushed off anyone who had tried to meddle in the personal matter of my health, but in a strange way, I didn't mind as much since he was a diabetic as well. I wouldn't have to explain that the blood sugar reading implied I needed to take in sugar to correct the imbalance.

When I pulled out glucose tabs, Naruto gave me a strange look.

"I hate those things," Naruto said vehemently. He reached into one of his cargo pockets, and pulled out a small juicy juice, orange flavor.

I didn't know whether to be offended that he seemed to think that just because he didn't like the glucose tablets that my tastes should mirror his own, or be grateful that he was offering over an orange juicy-juice.

Stupid as it sounded, one of the things Naruto had babbled about over the phone the night we had first met was how he always carried two juicy-juices in his cargo pockets. His favorite flavor was orange.

I always carried a supply of glucose tablets. I know if I had one low in a day, I was likely to have another. Offering me his juicy-juice was like offering away all but a few of my glucose tablets.

I took the juicy-juice, deciding to feel begrudgingly grateful that he'd given up what in many ways was half of his supply of back-up medicine. Naruto watched me, as though making sure I was going to drink it, before I downed it in a few sips. Then I turned my attention back to the medical questions in front of me.

After I filled out the medical forms, I handed them back over the counter to Shizune. She handed me back my insurance card. Just as I grabbed the card, the door to the right opened, and a young woman with bright pink hair and kind green eyes came out. She called my name and beckoned me to follow her. Naruto waved heartily at the nurse.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled at him warmly. She turned her attention back to me. Her warm, friendly smiled turned a little friendlier as she eyed me up and down.

She led me into a back room, took my weight, height, blood pressure, and checked my pulse.

"Dr. Tsunade will be with you shortly," she said, flashing me a very flirtatious smile. I didn't return it.

In most of my doctor visits, my experience was that the nurse came in, took the normal stats, and then I would have to wait for the doctor for five to ten minutes. I was pleasantly surprised when the door had barely closed behind the nurse before it opened again. A blond woman with her hair pulled back in two-pig tails entered the room. The stern look in her eyes seemed to contradict the juvenile picture of her pigtails.

"Uchiha Sasuke?" the doctor confirmed, looking down at the chart in her hand and then back at me. I nodded once. She introduced herself as Tsunade.

She started off asking me normal questions about eating habits, diet, patterns that I might have noticed affected my blood sugars, etc.

Dr. Tsunade asked me when was the last time that I switched my basal rate. I explained that about two and a half years ago, right around my sixteenth birthday, I had suddenly started having a lot of highs in the middle of the night and that my former doctor had switched my basal rate. (She seemed none too pleased to hear that Doctor Orochimaru had treated. She said he was inept.)

I did explain that after changing my basal rate, my numbers had gone back to normal. Then I moved from my house to my apartment, and the new life-style seemed to have brought about all the lows.

Dr. Tsunade explained in detail that there were several possibilities that could affect why my blood sugars were dropping low in the middle of the night.

She looked at me hard in a very calculating way, clearly thinking.

I couldn't help but remember that Naruto said that she liked dumb blonde jokes. She was a doctor, so she must have passed medical school. Then again, the person who passes with the lowest scores last in medical school still passes, and therefore can still become a doctor.

Hopefully she just enjoyed blonde jokes because she found them idiotic.

"Have you recently switched from a larger bed to a smaller bed? Perhaps your bed at home was a double but the bed you sleep in now that you're college is smaller? Or perhaps vice versa...?" The question startled me.

"Yes, actually. I have a queen size bed at home, but in my apartment I have a single bed."

"I see," she paused, thinking hard. "You said you started having problems with your blood sugars around your sixteenth birthday?"

"Yes."

"I wonder…did, by any chance, you happen to get a new bed for your sixteenth birthday? Your queen bed?"

I looked at her, surprised.

"Yes," I said slowly.

"Do you, or did you ever, check for twists, knots, kinks, in your insulin pump tubing?"

"No," I murmured, and I realized suddenly what she was getting at.

I felt so stupid.

One of the first things that the initial insulin pump training explains is that you should frequently check the cord that runs from the insulin pump to the injection site to see if there are knots. If there are too many knots, insulin will not run through the cording, and it will result in high blood sugars.

Another thing that can result in high blood sugars is a change in sleeping habits. Diabetics wear their insulin pumps to bed, so it's possible the cord can wrap around too tight, preventing insulin from coming through. A chance in sleeping behavior due to a different size bed is not uncommon.

"May I see your pump?" I reached into my pocket and pulled out my insulin pump, carefully unwinding the coils from the chord. She actually seemed more interested in the tubing/cording, obviously to see if there were currently any kinks or knots in the chord.

The chord. I felt so, so stupid. Why hadn't I been keeping a better eye on it?

I think I understood where she was going with this logic. My sleeping patterns had changed when I went from a single bed to a queen bed. I rolled around more. The cord wrapped around me at night. I hadn't thought anything of how often I wake up with the cord wrapped around my torso. I had adjusted my basal rate so that it incorporated this new sleeping habit. Now that I was in a single bed again, my sleeping habits had changed again.

"Well, there are no twists or knots at the moment. And my guess is that there haven't been any for a while. Did you find yourself moving around a lot more on your larger bed? Twisting and turning more?"

I all but groaned. "I'd constantly wake up with the tube wrapped around my body because of how often I would move around in the middle of the night."

"My guess is that about two years ago when your sleeping habits changed, you would frequently twist the cord around your body in the middle of the night, preventing the insulin from properly going into your body. For that time, your basal rate was set not to your body, but to your sleeping habits. It seems like the basal compensated for that. Now that you're in a smaller bed, you don't have as much room to move – so you don't. Therefore, you need to switch your nightly basal rate lower. Did you have a low blood sugar this morning?" she asked.

I hated feeling like an idiot.

"Yes," I gritted out. "But I've also been having some highs as well; it's not just lows."

"It's very likely that you're having a mix of highs and lows due to several factors. First, going from a double bed to a single bed can change sleeping habits. Usually cases like these show the opposite change, that your blood sugar would go high, but each person is different with how they sleep as well as how it affects their insulin levels. It's more likely that you move around more on a bigger bed, and that your chord was getting wrapped around you when you moved around a lot. When kinks appear in the tubing it stops the flow of insulin from the pump into your body. This results in highs. If there are no knots or kinks but you expect to have one, and give yourself insulin to try and counter-act the high, then it will result in lows. An attempt to find a pattern in highs and lows based off of this problem can be difficult because there really is no pattern. It's usually a good indicator to check the cording if it doesn't seem like food, exercise, or stress is causing unusual changes in your blood sugars. There's no rhyme or reason to it, and it can actually be hard to see as the problem. Nonetheless, I think that may be your problem in this case."

"In other twisting the tubing around my body was causing my blood sugars to go in and out of whack?" I asked slowly, trying not to sound as upset with myself as I felt.

"It would explain a good deal of your numbers flip-flopping as they are, and it would explain why there's no set pattern. Having trouble sleeping due to fears of having high or low blood sugars tends to cause higher blood sugars. As you probably know stress also causes high blood sugars. You're more stressed now. Not to mention that the lack of sleep causes highs as well. Studies have recently shown that people who are not diabetic can actually reach a state of border hyperglycemia just because they don't sleep. It could be counteracting the lows you were or are having."

I processed this information, but at the same time, I couldn't get over the simplicity to the possible problems to my unpredictable blood sugars was my sleeping behavior.

"I must impress upon you the need to get a normal amount of sleep, especially once we get your blood sugars stabilized. Staying up, pulling all-nighters will result in high blood sugars. In fact, it will cause high blood sugars to anyone – it's just worse for you because you are diabetic. Being in college, if you know anyone who pulls all-nighters, try and impress upon them the problems that it has on their bodies."

Yeah, right. College students wouldn't listen to that.

"Now, I know that we had planned on doing the training with the new CGMS to test your blood sugars continuously, but for now, we should hold off. I want you to see how your body reacts without the monitor attached to you as the continuous glucose monitor might actually be more of a hindrance than a help considering your problem. I want you to come back in two weeks. Keep a log of your blood sugars, as well as a log of what you eat. I suggest you also wake up once during the middle of the night to get a nightly glucose reading. Also check for any knots in the line, just in case. If that's successful, in two weeks, I will train both you and Naruto on the CGMS. If I didn't have any idea of what the problem was, I would have started you on it today. However, I find it much more reassuring if we can fix the problem before we start that. Fixing something manually rather than through trial and error with the CGMS is much better for your body."

Not really knowing what to say to that, I murmured a "thanks" before heading back out to the lobby and scheduled an appointment for two weeks.

Naruto looked up from where he sat when I entered the room.

"We doing the training now?"

I shook my head.

"Two more weeks. Dr. Tsunade wants me to try something first," I explained. I felt slightly bad that Naruto had wasted his time. He didn't seem upset though.

"I figured it would work out that way. She said we'd only do the training if she couldn't think of what might be causing your problem. The CGMS monitors blood sugars constantly, so it can prevent you from going high or low, but it doesn't diagnose what causes said high or low."

Naruto said goodbye to Shizune and turned to leave with me.

"You came here even though you thought you might not get the training?" I asked.

"Yep!" Naruto said, his hands in his pockets. I didn't know why but I felt strangely touched. Naruto had given up his morning to come with me to the doctor's appointment. It didn't make any sense. He'd helped me out, and I had wasted his time. He had even given me his juicy-juice.

He seemed to genuinely care. I tried not to make too big a deal out of it because he seemed like the kind to care about anyone, but the fact that I had been the one he cared about made me feel a bit off-balanced.

"What did Tsunade-baa-chan say was the problem?" Naruto asked. I smirked at the name he used for the doctor, but it turned into a scowl as I scoffed at my own stupidity.

"She believed I was twisting the cord as I slept. The knots prevented the insulin from moving through the tube and into my body effectively. Now that I'm sleeping differently, it's not twisting any more which is causing the lows because the basal rate is too high."

"Wow! That sucks. It makes sense, but it still sucks. It's always the little things. I remember this one time that a patient called in. Her blood sugars were sky-high, and she had no idea why. She'd been on vacation at the beach, and all of a sudden it was like her insulin had no effect on her. Turns out the woman never puts her insulin in the fridge, so when she first got to the beach home, she didn't put it in the fridge. The problem was that she went to the beach home, but didn't stay there because it was too warm. She turned the air conditioner on, but then left until the house cooled down. The house was so hot that it ruined the insulin. The woman hadn't even thought of what would happen if she kept it in the too hot house. I guess room temperature is okay for insulin, but I guess having it that hot wasn't. But man, Tsunade-baa-chan seemed to pull that out of nowhere when she asked the woman about the temperature she had stored her insulin at! She's an awesome doctor," Naruto babbled in remembrance. He turned and smiled at me like it was no bid deal. I gave a half smile back.

Naruto clasped his hand around my shoulder and squeezed.

"For a while I wondered if you even knew how to smile."

"Idiot! Of course I know how to smile," I snapped back. Naruto just grinned.

"Just glad to see you actually show me that you can," Naruto said, giving my shoulder an extra squeeze before he put his hands back in his pocket, looking slightly upward as though he didn't have a care in the world. I had smiled once or twice in his presence before. He probably just didn't remember. Idiot.

I had the strangest urge to smack him.

No, I didn't want to smack him because I envied how happy he was. No, I didn't want to smack him because he seemed to have the ability to care about anyone.

No, I wanted to smack him because a strange feeling was coming over me, and I knew it was his fault.

I liked the attention he gave me. I liked the way his hand felt on my shoulder.

And something about his smile made my gut twist in a strangely pleasant way.

I don't know that I have ever really had any close friends before. I think he was my first, true friend.

**Next Chapter: Pizza, Fruit-Punch, and Fencing**

* * *

_General information about diabetes:_

A basal rate is the amount of insulin diabetics take through an insulin pump. The basal gives a small dosage of insulin every 7 to 15 minutes to counteract the constant flow of sugar produced by the liver.

There are many reasons why diabetics might go high or low. Sadly, it's very hard to pinpoint the exact problem. When a diabetic does everything that the doctor tells him to do, he can still have major problems. It's extremely frustrating.

The cord/tubing that connects the insulin pump to the incision site can get knotted or kinked. If that occurs, then insulin will not enter the body of the patient resulting in highs. That can be extremely problematic. People changing bed sizes might find a change in their sleeping habits (i.e., the amount of times they roll around, etc.) that can (though rarely) cause problems with their blood sugars. Usually people have more problems with highs going from a double bed to a single bed rather than lows, but each person's sleeping habits are different. Sasuke's case is rare, but still possible.

_Notes about my life:_

I've had issues before where there have been knots in my line and it results in a high blood sugar. I haven't had problems where it twists around my body, but it is possible, and if you don't think to fix it, problems result. Little, silly things can cause highs – or lows. It's very frustrating sometimes because it can be very difficult to pinpoint the exact problem.

Let me know what you thought! ~ Jelp


	5. Chapter 5: Smiles

**Highs and Lows**

**Chapter 5: Pizza, Fruit-Punch, and Fencing (aka Smiles)**

_(Uzumaki Naruto's point of view)_

Even though Sasuke said he knew how to smile, I honestly wasn't sure. I think he'd sorta smiled before, but it had come out more of a smirk. He could smirk, but truly smile? The smile he flashed my way now didn't have a hint of smirk in it. I'm also sure it didn't help that he didn't seem to have any one to make him really smile. He had little to no support from his family and friends, if he even had any friends. Overall he struck me as someone who wasn't overtly happy. I know I'd be lost and miserable without my parents' support. It just made life easier.

"Want to get something to eat?" Sasuke asked. I grinned.

"Yeah!" I said. I had kinda forgotten that Sasuke still probably needed to eat after his blood sugar had been low. "But you're paying 'cuz I don't have much cash on me."

"Hn," Sasuke said, smirking, not smiling again. "I have a fair amount of food at my apartment, with no need to worry about calculating the carbohydrates of unmeasured portion sizes at a restaurant or at my university's mess hall. I decided I'd forgo eating in the dining lounge unless necessary. I think it's helped with my blood sugar a little bit. Anyway, my car is over there. You can follow behind," he said, and started to walk away. At first his words struck me as odd. Follow behind? Then I realized he meant for me to follow behind him in my car. Except, I didn't have a car.

"Um..." I began. I don't think I'd mentioned I'd taken the bus because I didn't drive. "I didn't drive here. I took the bus here." In fact, I'd waited 20 minutes before Sasuke had shown up because the bus to this office didn't run as frequently. It wasn't like we lived in a big city, so the transportation system was only so-so. Some people didn't even know we had a local bus route.

Thankfully, instead of asking why I hadn't driven to the office, he just nodded and continued walking to his car. I'd seen it once before, the night we'd met, but to see his car in the daylight: it looked extremely impressive! For one thing, it seemed freshly waxed, and there was a glossy glow to the black finish.

"Nice car," I murmured.

"Hn." I couldn't tell if that sound was supposed to be a sound of agreement, thanks, or something else. With a click of his keys, the doors unlocked, and I opened my door, staring right at beautiful leather interior.

"_Really_ nice car," I muttered.

Sasuke gave me a snort of laughter as he slid into the car and buckled up.

"You really don't talk much, do you?" I asked, scrunching my eyes up and then looking at him. He turned to me as he pulled out of the parking spot with narrowed eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't give details! I mean, you could have said, 'I love this car!' or 'You should see my other one,' or 'This was a birthday present from my parents,' or 'I've been saving since I was two for this car,' or-"

"What two year old would start saving money for a car?"

"I dunno! Maybe your parents did it. But that's not the point. I'm just saying you don't seem to talk too much."

"I say what I need to. I'm a good listener. Haven't you ever heard the expression, 'you have two ears and one mouth. You should listen twice as much as you speak,' before?"

"Funny, my teachers used to tell me that all the time."

"Funny, you don't seem to have learned it."

Five years ago when I was younger and immature, okay, okay, so maybe even two years ago when I was younger and immature, I would have been pissed at his comment and told him off.

Now I knew better.

Don't piss off or instigate a driver.

Wait till he's not driving, _then_ seek revenge for the mean comment.

"Favorite food?" I asked, changing the topic. Or maybe I could just bug him into conversation. That seemed like good revenge. I smirked evilly to myself.

"Tomatoes." There was a pause.

"This is where you have the chance to ask me what my favorite food is," I stage whispered. Yes, bugging him was going to be fun.

"Miso ramen," he said stating my favorite food. I was surprised that he already knew it. "You already mentioned it. And you didn't stop to ask me what my favorite food was then," Sasuke added smugly.

Well shit. The saying worked. The bastard had listened.

"You remembered something like that?" It surprised me. I know I had mentioned it very briefly while explaining something else, and it was impressive that he remembered. "You must have a good memory."

"Hn," he smirked, yet again. I looked out the window as the trees zoomed by, throwing splashes of green in and around the houses. I realized we were heading to a more suburban area, and I wondered what kind of home Sasuke and his parents lived in. Then I remembered he didn't live at home with them, but rather at an apartment near his university. He didn't even live in a dorm room. Must like his privacy.

"Do you work?" I wondered. Did he make his own money or did his parents just give it to him? I thought he had said something about working at one point, but I couldn't remember for sure.

"I do client analysis." And that means what? He could do just about anything with a statement like that. Sasuke glanced at me quickly before his eyes darted back to the road, and he explained without me nagging him for details. "In other words, my father's company gets dozens of new clients each month. I sort through them to figure out the compatibility between our current employees and our new clientele, based off of our employees' previous work history with clients and their own knowledge of the client's field."

Sounded important. And boring as hell. I told him so.

"It's more tedious than anything. I have to read through the clients' files, review each employee's history – as well as their current workload – and match them up. It's annoying because sometimes the employees don't update in the company database when they have finished the bulk of their work with one of the other clients."

Like I said: boring as hell. I was tempted to ask him what exactly the company did to get all these new clients, but I wasn't sure how boring that story would be.

"Going to school to continue with the family business?" I asked.

"Yes, and no. Yes, I'm going into a family business, but no because it's my maternal grandfather's business that I'm going to take over. It's a company that does work with special effects' weaponry by recreating era weapons or finding and restoring actual artifacts. The company is an agency used by filmmakers and high-end theaters. I'm gong to school for a dual degree in history – for the ability to place the weapon's age and other pertinent information – and engineering to know how to recreate a weapon's design."

Now that sounded cool.

"What are you in school for?" Sasuke asked.

"Writing. My dad owns the prefecture newspaper, and I want to be a writer. Not just reporting, but other stuff as well! One day I want to take over. When I told him that, I thought he'd be excited. Instead he said I should pick another career because he didn't plan on retiring any time soon, so I would have to wait for a long while before I made it to my dream. I don't care if he doesn't retire soon. My dad's awesome. I'd love to work with him. Right now it's nice because he always gets the latest info on medical stuff and his staff had already been reporting about medical findings when I got diagnosed with diabetes. They filled him in when I became diabetic, and they keep him up to speed when new information comes out."

"Sounds like you and your father are close."

"Yeah. My mom and I are too. My parents actually wanted more kids, but it just wasn't meant to happen. My mom got shingles and became sterile not too long after I was born. I think it would have been cool to end up with a big family. My parents are both from only child homes, so I don't even have any aunts, uncles, or cousins."

"I'm not close with my father. I suppose I'm closest to my mother. I'm not close with my aunts, uncles, or cousins either."

"What about your grandfather? You know, the one on your mom's side that you're going to work for?"

"He died when I was two. He left the company to my mother, but she's owner in name only."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say to that.

And then came that awkward silence. That silence where you want to say something but don't want to put your foot in your mouth. Do you know what I'm talking about? It's that awkwardness that comes with talking to new people. It's not usually the most exciting conversation to begin with because you don't know each other that well, and that silence is just long and drawn out.

It always seems worse in car rides because you have nothing to do. Well, okay, so the driver is driving, but all I can do is look forward or to either side. He doesn't even have the radio on to listen to either.

"You know what always gets me," I said, "is how tons of people drive and listen to the radio, but you rarely hear people listening to it on TV shows and movies unless it's for comedic effect or it's an important news broadcast telling of some catastrophic event. People generally talk over the radio."

"It's so the audience can focus on the dialogue between the people in the car," Sasuke stated slowly in a tone indicating I should have realized how obvious that was.

"I know, but it's just not realistic!"

Sasuke didn't say anything more, but the awkwardness at least seemed to have faded, especially since he turned into his apartment complex's parking lot.

The buildings all looked like small houses but with four doors to each building. Sasuke led me to one of the small buildings and opened the door that had a staircase leading up. Obviously the building was split into fours, two top apartments, and two side apartments.

"Whoa! That's awesome!"

As soon as I entered the living room, I was met with a wall that had weapons displayed all over it.

"You even have them separated by regions. I especially like your European saber."

He raised an eyebrow in interest, clearly impressed that I was familiar with weaponry. I grinned.

"I take fencing," I explained.

"Saber, I presume. Anything else?"

"Started with foil, then did epée, and now I do saber fencing." Foil, epée, and saber were all different styles of fencing that used the type of sword the fencing style was named after.

"My brother started kendo when he was three, so I insisted that I take kendo so as well. Kendo is a wonderful art, but we have to use shinai, and using a bamboo stick isn't the same as using a katana. I moved to European swords in order to have the feel of real metal in my hands."

I looked over his collection, my hands itching to grip the saber, feel the coolness of the handle as the hand guard would close around the top of my fingers. Unlike standard approved training, dueling swords, this one was real.

Like all European dueling or fencing swords, the blades were thin with a small grip, versus the heavy battle swords used for actual combat. They usually took two hands to hold. There were some of those on the wall, but I was focused on the designs on the handle of the saber. It was more tarnished than what I used, and therefore more likely to be authentic rather than a replica. Replicas always tended to be too shiny; the dated stuff was made to really fight with, to defend your life, not to look pretty on TV.

"Do you want something to drink?" Sasuke asked.

"Do you have any diet?" the words came thoughtlessly. Of course he would have diet! He didn't drink the sugary stuff either. "Never mind. Forget I asked that. I'm so used to asking people 'cuz tons of people don't drink diet."

"I have diet sodas, teas, and fruit juice."

"Diet fruit juice?"

"I guess the label states it as sugar free, technically, but yes, fruit juice. Not half bad either. Then again, I've never really liked sweet foods or drinks, so perhaps it's too watered down for your taste."

"I wanna try it!" I said excitedly. He went off through an open doorway (obviously the kitchen). I followed behind, too intrigued to stay in the living room.

Later, in hindsight, I'd think how silly it was to get excited over sugar free fruit juice with all the cool weapons, but I'd never said I had a long attention span.

Besides, kitchen meant food.

"What were you thinking of having for lunch?"

"Pizza."

"Pizza? You don't strike me as a pizza guy."

"Think about it. I told you what my favorite food is."

"Ooh. Tomatoes," I said. Pizza has tomato sauce, riiiight. "Does that mean you like spaghetti too?"

"Yes, homemade sauce with real chunks," Sasuke explained as he opened the fridge and took out the fruit juice. The SUGAR FREE stuck out in large, block letters. I popped the can open and took a gulp.

It tasted good. _Really_ good.

"This actually tastes like juice!" I said, thinking how it tasted even better than the sugary juicy juice (fruit punch flavor) that I used to treat for my low blood sugars. Sasuke gave me an amused smile as he pulled out two personal pizzas from the freezer. Another smile, not a smirk. I grinned back widely.

It said it would take fifteen minutes for the personalized pizzas to cook. While we waited, we headed back to the living room where he showed me all sorts of weapons that he had on his wall, explaining which ones were replicas, and which ones were the real thing.

"I don't have any overtly expensive originals here. Most of this came from my grandfather's collection. The really expensive items are still at my parents' house. My grandfather split his collection equally between my brother and myself, but Itachi was never as interested. He doesn't need a weapon; I always thought he could stare someone to death if he really wanted to do so."

"Are you and Itachi close?" I asked. The only person he seemed to talk about was his older brother. Sasuke merely shrugged.

"Not really. When I was younger, I really looked up to him, hero-worshipped him to a degree. Then when I turned ten or so, I got to the age where I realized acting like Itachi would never get my dad's attention. If I acted like Itachi, I would always be in his shadow, doing just what he did. Most of the time I did it worse. At thirteen, I finally realized that nothing I did would ever truly get my father's attention," Sasuke stated.

It was a hard statement, almost cold. It was that tone people used when they were trying to convince you that it didn't matter to them, while trying to convince themselves even more.

Even so, I bet it wasn't something he talked about often. I bet his blood sugar was dropping low again. When my blood sugar initially starts to drop, I fee like I have a loose tongue, and things I normally wouldn't – and in most cases _shouldn't_ – say just sorta pop out.

If he weren't having a low, I probably wouldn't have ever heard him talk about his father so bitterly.

DING!

Mmmm! Food was ready. 46 carbs of pizza!

We ended up eating in his living room. By the expression on his face, he was half-regretting the decision. I mighta kinda sorta accidentally gotten pizza sauce on one of the cushions. One of the white cushions. Oops.

But he had wanted us to eat out there to he could show me the movie "The Princess Bride" since I liked fencing. It was awesome! Even though he and I both grumbled when you could see the mat beneath the actor's feet during one of their fencing scenes, it was a hilarious movie.

"Makes me want to fence now," I grinned, my hand once again itching for that saber.

"You touch my weapons, and I'll cut off your hand," Sasuke said coolly.

"Oh come on. You fence! Doesn't watching the duels make you want to duel as well?"

"Yes, but I only have one foil, saber, and epée that we could actually use."

I pouted.

Now, to you, you might think hey – if there are three swords, why can't you each use one? Well, they're all different, and each style of fencing has different rules and a different type of sword. The rules influence the type of sword you use.

I like saber because you can make slashing movements. In foil and epée, you can only score a point by "poking" someone.

"Besides," Sasuke continued, "my apartment doesn't have the room for a match."

Good point. Even so, it would have been awesome to fence against him.

Sasuke frowned suddenly, looking at the clock.

"I should probably start looking over files soon," he said.

"Okay! We should hangout again before we have the CGMS training. We should watch the "Mask of Zorro" together. Aren't there cool fencing scenes in that?"

"Never seen it." My eyes widened.

"How can you like fencing and have never seen the "Mask of Zorro" before?"

"How could you have never seen "The Princess Bride" before?"

"Touché," I said, and Sasuke smirked at the French fencing word.

"I'll drive you home."

On the way home I explained with great enthusiasm my great fencing abilities (to which Sasuke snorted at as well as distracted me so that I forgot to tell Sasuke to turn onto the right road). It took slightly longer than it should have to get home, but we actually didn't live that far from each other.

I got out of the car and gave him an enthusiastic wave goodbye.

He raised his arm, giving the slightest of waves before leaving.

I bounced up the front walk, grinning. I'd had a lot of fun. For a semi-quiet guy, he was cool.

However, my grin faded when I saw my mom's car in the driveway. Apparently she had gotten home early. I hadn't thought to tell her I wouldn't be home from the doctor's right away. I entered my house and headed straight to the living room where she usually sat and read after work. She stood up as soon as I entered, approaching me. Her eyes narrowed. Yeah, she wasn't happy with me.

"Where were you?" my mom demanded sternly, her arms crossed against her chest.

"Sorry – sorry! I thought I'd be back before you were. I was hanging out with Sasuke. He's a pretty cool guy. We had pizza and this awesome sugar free fruit juice that tastes like normal fruit juice. We have to get some! And then we watched "The Princess Bride." We gotta rent that movie. And he had a whole wall covered with knives and swords and stuff!" I said in a rush.

"Sounds like you two have a lot in common. Maybe it's true love," my mom bit out sarcastically. She always gets grouchy when she doesn't know where I am.

Telling her I'm a legal adult won't help though. Since I still live at home, I have to let her know where I am at all times. I once argued that since I was a legal adult that it was none of her business.

She said if I was legal working age, and if I didn't tell her where I was going, she'd start charging rent and she'd stop asking me where I was all the time. I like free room and board. I therefore make sure she knows where I'm at, at all times. My mom does not make idle threats.

"If I had known you were coming home early, then I would have told you," I suggested, trying to make her realize that it really wasn't that big of a deal.

"I'm not home early." She pointed at the clock.

"Eh?" I followed her outstretched arm to look at the clock. It was a lot later than I had thought. I laughed nervously. "Ehehehe," I chuckled, grinning. "Oops."

"Oops?" my mom repeated, not amused.

"Uh – sorry?"

"Mmm-hmm," my mom drawled out. She sighed. "Call, text, _something_ next time."

"Alright."

Really, parents were too over protective.

Then again...

I wondered how Sasuke's parents felt and acted toward him. They must have cared about him. He was their son after all. But seeing how Sasuke acted, maybe his parents weren't the kind of people who let it show. For once I was grateful that my mom cared and wanted to make sure where I was.

"Thanks Mom," I said, smiling at her gratefully. I then walked over and gave her a hug.

"Huh?" I just smiled even wider before bouncing off to my room, remembering one of my favorite quotes.

Smile. It confuses people.

**Next Chapter: Movie Night**

* * *

_General information about diabetes:_

When a diabetic's sugar drops low, it's a lot like being drunk. When a person is drunk, they tend to say things that while sometimes may seem out of character or harsh, are what a person truly thinks. It's harder to lie while drunk, just as it is harder to lie while a person's blood sugar is low. Then again, that's only if a diabetic is willing to talk. When blood sugars drop below a certain point, then sometimes diabetics prefer not to talk at all.

_Notes about my life:_

Yes, I fence, and yes, sugar free fruit punch is AWESOME. I kid you not; I squealed when I found it. Ironically, I called my mom and asked her to buy some for me. She said I sounded way too excited about sugar free fruit punch. What's ironic about that situation is my brother had called her about a half hour before I had, letting her know he'd just won $1,000 – but I sounded more excited about finding sugar free fruit juice than he did about winning $1,000.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY lL0tus!!! ~ Jelp


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